Disclaimer: not mine.

Cold

I. Faith is a beautiful contradiction, a sin wrapped in sainthood. She is lost and crying out for a saviour, and I can pull her from twilight into the deepest shadows. I see that the boundaries of light, filthy tentacles, chafe her, and I can take them away. Perhaps she calls out for redemption of another kind, and maybe she will reject me, the poor confused lamb, but I will offer her solace. The girl only needs a proper Mummy.

II. Faith is seeking warmth, for she's buried herself in a snowy pit. She can't come out the way she entered, so she's determined to dig to the centre of the earth, where they say it's warm. Everyone around her is content to stay where they are, to revel in their comfort, but Faith isn't one to slack off, and she's not one to bathe in light. Any glow surrounding her is Buffy's; Faith is the cold moon to the blonde Slayer's lively sun.

III. Faith is lost, lost, lost. I know she doesn't know where she's going because I don't know where I'm going, and she and I are so very alike. She doesn't see it, of course; she's lost. She's hiding in the darkness and claims that it suits her, buries the guilt under glittery eye shadow. I've done the same thing, worn that nametag, but I know now that you can't be lost forever. Eventually, I think Faith will find her way home.

IV. Faith is still running, and she's covered in mud. It's that quest for warmth, and she starts to wonder what it means. She doesn't understand what's going on or who she is or anything at all really, and it's starting to unnerve her. She was always in control before. She knew, she knows what people want, and underneath the casually rumpled hair, there was an active mind. Faith could always find the lonely men, and she'd pull them in like Santiago did his marlin. They were seeking warmth and she didn't seem so cold while she danced, so they came to her and she took them, and for a brief moment, she let herself melt.

V. Faith is quirky in a violent way, and it's different. If not for her killing-people thing, she'd be pretty cool. Homicidal maniacs are pretty hard to deal with, though, so quirkiness or not, I try to stay away from her.

VI. Faith is snowed under, and the world around her is white, falsely pure. It glows and she knows what's lighting her way, and good God she hates Buffy so much. Who's to say that she couldn't find her way in the dark? Seriously, really; Faith has never been so lost as she looks on the surface. She's wary and always alert, watching out for cairns and unobtrusive signposts. Her hair, free for once from dye, is dusted with a preview of the impending snowstorm, and she knows that she should find some shelter, that she should duck and run. Call it a game and head on home. There's only one problem here: Faith has no home, and so she trudges along the soggy path into the cold.

VII. Faith is a mystery, a steaming ball of insouciant retorts. She's strong and she's passionate, and it's rather unfortunate, really, that she chose to tread the shadowy bypath. She had quite a lot of potential hidden underneath the dark lipstick and rebellion; she could have been a someone. I don't know why she wants so much to be a no one, nor can I fathom what drives her out night after night. I don't know what drives her any longer, though saying this would imply that I once did, and that's certainly not true. The girl's an enigma, has been from the start, and Gods above I would love to understand her because she's a fascinating specimen.

VIII. Faith is perfectly aware that they're all watching her from their shadowy hiding places, and oh they're hypocrites for hiding in the darkness while they condemn her for just that, and they're probably laughing at her right now. She grits her teeth and tenses her shoulders and, just for show, tosses her head defiantly, and she continues to plough a trail for herself where there was no route before, and the snow keeps falling heavily all around her.